Asylum
by American Soldier
Summary: The story of four individuals, trapped in a Hell unlike any other. BtVS-Army of Darkness-Terminator-Halloween crossover.
1. Chapter 1

Asylum

Disclaimer: own nothing.

* * *

Danning, Illinois…1991…

"We got a code 187, victim is 21 yr-old female, Teresa McCain. Suspect, male, Caucasian, 5'11 to 6 feet tall, dressed in jeans, black combat boots, black t-shirt with a cross on it. Suspect has black leather jacket, eye patch over the left eye, armed with wooden stakes and a Colt 1911. Suspect is considered armed and dangerous!"

At eleven forty-nine pm, Teresa McCain died of a traumatic wound to the heart. Police reports concluded that the perpetrator, a young man with no identification, had stabbed her with a 'wooden stake,' destroying the heart into several pieces. Concluding a short trial, in which after one day's proceedings, the courts accepted a 'not-guilty by reason of mental instability or insanity' plea. He was promptly incarcerated at the nearby Smith's Grove…

* * *

Carver, Tennessee…

At twelve thirty-seven am, Warren Bailey, a Carver resident, stumbled upon a Caucasian male covered in blood and wounds, missing a hand from the wrist up. The man was babbling on and on about demons and 'Deadites,' repeatedly telling Mr. Bailey to 'warn everyone.' County police eventually discovered several bodies at the cabin which the suspect indicated it all took place. Immediately, the suspect was incarcerated and upon review was determined 'unfit for trial' and placed inside a maximum security sanitarium, George's Banks, until a violent disturbance lead to the suspect's escape. Eventually, the suspect was reacquired and placed inside of a more secure sanitarium…Smith's Grove…

* * *

Los Angeles, California…

At one eleven am, the patient, a Caucasian female of twenty-nine years of age, attempted to escape the custody of the Los Angeles County Police Department as they prepared to transport her to a new sanitarium, as the Pescadero State Hospital was undergoing extreme renovations due to the same patient's repeated escape attempts. Her physician, Dr. Peter Silberman, insisted on her transfer to a more secure location to ensure the safety of her son, whom she seemed obsessed with 'beyond the nature of a worried mother.' Dr. Silberman, however, elected to remain with her after her transfer to continue his efforts to reach a breakthrough with her. In order to accommodate both, the patient was transferred to Smith's Grove…

* * *

Haddonfield, Illinois…

After the most expensive and one of the longest trials in Illinois history, an eleven-year-old boy was found guilty of First Degree Murder. He was incarcerated in Smith's Grove Sanitarium…


	2. Chapter 2

Asylum

Disclaimer: own nothing.

ΧΧΧ

"This is bullshit! Utter and complete bullshit!"

"Doctor Loomis, please! That language is not necessary."

Dr. Samuel Loomis stared at his immediate superiors, three men dressed in suits that looks like carbon copies of each other, and resisted the urge to gag on the sheer levels of bullshit that was coming from them.

"I am a children's psychologist," Loomis reminded them, "My specialty is with children, not with men who are already cold-blooded killers!"

"Dr. Loomis, while we are aware of your chosen specialty, you must remember that you are an employee of Smith's Grove Sanitarium," one of the suits said to him in a superior manner, "Now, ordinarily, we would have nothing but respect for your chosen specialty. However, Smith's Grove has fallen on hard financial times. As a result, we've had to begin laying off our employees. Now, several of our staff have taken on more patients, but you are our only children's psychologist on staff. As it is, however, since there is only one child currently within our walls, this makes you…less than important in the eyes of the budget."

"Are you threatening to fire me if I don't do this," Loomis was speechless.

"I'm simply stating the facts," one of the suits said, "If you look more needed in the eyes of the accountants, the safer your position on this staff remains."

Samuel Loomis stared at them in shock, but there was a reason why he was a doctor…he was not a dumbass. Seemingly shrinking into himself, Loomis decided to resign himself to his fate.

"Which patient should I take on," he asked.

Two files were passed onto him.

"Pick one," a suit said, "Dr. Silberman has graciously said he will take on the one you do not select."

Loomis sighed and opened one of the files. After reading the summary of each of them, Loomis decided that he would choose Patient 147-B.

ΧΧΧ

He was chained when he came in. Dressed in a long hospital gown, the young man wore an eye patch and was sporting a large scar along the side of his face. He had a large amount of facial hair, and appeared to be indifferent about the fact that he was there. The guards sat him down at the table in front of Loomis, and released him from his bonds.

"Leave us," Loomis instructed.

The guards left with little concern, knowing that they could arrive instantly in order to detain the patient. Loomis, however, felt that the young man knew much more than he was letting on. He watched carefully as the patient's eye followed the guards, focused primarily on his weapon and his keys. Loomis scribbled on his notepad, gaining the young man's attention.

"Good morning," Loomis looked down at his file as he turned on the tape recorder, "Mr. Harris. How are you feeling today?"

The young man stared at him for a long moment, not saying anything. Loomis fought his instinct to stiffen underneath his gaze, forcing himself to remain calm and relaxed as his training taught him. The young man was judging him, assessing him as he sat there. Obviously, this patient was much more aware than the files had indicated. That was both good and bad, as it could be a major source of aid in breaking him out of his delusions…but bad as it was most likely that the young man was planning an escape.

Finally, the patient seemed to nod slightly to himself, then he leaned back and relaxed in his seat, lifting up his hands as he did so.

"I can't do that, Mr. Harris," Loomis told him.

He sighed and leaned back in his seat. He seemed to think for a moment, before licking his lips.

"Can I bum a cig," he inquired.

Loomis nodded, reaching into his breast pocket to pull out a pack of cigarettes. Loomis noted two things in that request: Mr. Harris's voice was one of the most unique he'd ever heard, in that he had a unique accent that seemed to be influenced by African culture, as Loomis himself had spent some time in Africa he knew the dialects fairly well. The other thing he noticed was that Mr. Harris was playing mind games of his own. By requesting to smoke, he was testing just how cooperative (or malleable) Loomis would be to him. Loomis discerned two things in that moment: that Mr. Harris had traveled the world at some point in his short life, and that he was cunning…far more cunning than most of the patients he'd encountered in the past.

"You know these things will kill you, Mr. Harris," Loomis said, seemingly casual, "Or would you mind letting me call you Alex?"

The young man stared at him for a long moment, pursing his lips as he looked at him. Loomis smiled on the inside, knowing that the young man recognized now that he was playing with someone who could play as well.

"…No," the patient said with a grin, "But you can call me Xander."

"Alright, Xander," Loomis said, handing over his cigarettes and lighter as he did so, "My name is Dr. Samuel Loomis."

"How ya doin' today, Loomy," Xander asked with a slight grin as he lit up.

"That's Dr. Loomis," Loomis corrected automatically, realizing the second that he'd done so he'd made a mistake as he saw the young man's grin widen.

"Whatever you say, Loomy," Xander said, blowing some smoke up into the air.

Loomis sighed, but decided to continue.

"Mr. Harris, do you know why you've been brought here," Loomis inquired.

The young man seemed to sadden at that, and he made no effort to hide it. Loomis recognized the genuine grief that he had over causing the young girl's death and saw it as his best chance to help the young man come out of this madness that he'd created for himself.

"I am…sorry for her death," Xander said, looking nothing short of distraught as he did so, "I didn't mean to…"

"Why did you do it, Xander," Loomis asked, wanting to know exactly what was inside the young man's head.

Xander sighed to himself, blowing out a cloud of smoke as he did so.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," Xander said.

ΧΧΧ

Dr. Peter Silberman sat down at the table, opening up the file to patient 542-E. He ignored the pictures which he had seen close to twenty times already, instead focusing on the personal information the file contained. This man was quite the piece of work: seven people found dead, each of them dismembered. The most confusing thing that they'd included in the file was that each person had a varying level of decay, with several appearing to be over a week old. This led authorities to inquire whether or not there'd been a second killer, as confirmed reports account for the patient being at work and in his classes during that time.

As the doors opened and the guards pulled him inside, Silberman noted that the man seemed to be afraid of his situation, but also that he appeared to be nothing short of pissed off to be in it.

He struggled with the guards for a moment, clearly trying to break free of them. One of the guards hit him in his stump, causing the patient to scream in pain, even as they dragged him over to the seat and sat him down. They chained him up quickly, then stood back and took their positions behind him.

"…Good morning, Mr. Williams," Silberman greeted him as he turned on the tape recorder.

"Yeah, hi," the patient said, gasping as he did so, "Listen, couldya do me a favor and get heckle and jeckle off my back? I don't like having assholes staring over me while I tell you my deepest and darkest, y'know."

"I'm afraid I can't do that, Mr. Williams," Silberman told him, "You've been deemed a danger to yourself and others."

"Listen, if I promise to behave, will you get them outta here, and maybe, I dunno, take me out of these goddamned shackles," the patient growled.

"In time, you may earn the right to be released and be unsupervised," Silberman said, while really it wasn't necessary for this patient to be kept underneath constant guard, Silberman felt it was best for his own safety to ensure that he was.

The patient sighed to himself, resigning himself as he did so.

"Alright, you wanna talk," the patient asked, "Let's talk."

"Very well," Silberman said, "Let's start off with introductions. My name is Dr. Peter Silberman."

"My name is Ashley J. Williams," the patient said with a smile, "And even with a girl's name, I'm manlier than you."

"There's no reason for insults, Mr. Williams," Silberman said.

"…Call me Ash," the patient said, offering his hand.

Silberman reached out and took his hand, giving it a firm shake. He made to remove his hand, but Ash held tight, squeezing with a considerable amount more strength than Silberman could ever muster. Silberman groaned out in pain, causing the two guards to come forward, preparing to take Mr. Williams out if necessary.

"That," Ash said with a grin, "Was just to let you know."

Ash let go of Silberman's hand, and the doctor reeled backward, shaking his hand loose to calm the pain. The guards stood down at that, but remained alert in case Mr. Williams decided to do something again.

"…To let me know what," Silberman asked in exasperation.

"That you don't fuck with me," Ash said with a grin, "Ever."

Silberman stared at him for a long moment, calming himself down, then said "So what should I do with you?"

"…Hail to the King, baby," Ash said with a smirk.

ΧΧΧ

"Hello, hello," Dr. Loomis said into the tape recorder, "Why don't you go on and say your name?"

"Hi, my name is Michael Myers…"

ΧΧΧ

Dr. Silberman sighed as he shook his hand again. It was fairly bruised from Ash's grip, and he was fairly certain based on previous events that he would be bruised by his next patient's actions, if not today, then eventually.

The door opened, and the guards walked in a woman dressed in a hospital gown. Unlike most patients at Smith's Grove, she was not normally chained up. This was because she was more dangerous with chains than without.

The guards sat her down in her chair, and she stared at him with a frown on her face.

"Good afternoon, Sarah," Silberman greeted his patient.

"Good afternoon, Dr. Silberman," Sarah Connor returned with a menacing monotone, "How are you today?"

"Good, Sarah," Silberman said, used to her normally hostile attitude towards him, "And you?"

She laughed, a thoroughly unpleasant sound, and said "I'm separated from my son, trapped in this Hellhole you call a hospital. How would you feel?"

"Caged, suppressed, oppressed," Silberman responded with a scoffing smile, "You need to understand something, Sarah…we're not your enemy. We're not those machines, those 'Terminators' that you've envisioned-"

"I didn't 'envision' it," Sarah reiterated, obviously very angered by his dismissal of her opinions, "It was real."

"No, Sarah, it wasn't," Silberman stated, using the more direct approach that he had begun before her transfer, "Think about it. You claim that you saw a man from the future, slept with him, all while on the run from a 'robot from the future' that was sent to kill you to ensure your son wasn't born. And you crushed him with a hydraulic press. Now, think Sarah…if this was all true, wouldn't there be some evidence of it?"

"Cyberdyne took the Terminator, I told you," Sarah pressed, "That's why there are no parts left over! And how do you explain the Terminator's attack on the police station?!"

"I think the man responsible for that attack was a highly trained psychopath, and he was after your friend for reasons other than you," Silberman calmly explained, "This man, this…" he flipped open his file, "'Kyle Reese' was delusional. I believe he captured you and brainwashed you, Sarah. I believe you're suffering from a combination of Stockholm Syndrome and paranoid delusions brought on by what this man did to you."

Sarah stared at him for a long moment, and Silberman stared right back. He knew that she would respond, probably violently, but he refused to show fear to her.

Suddenly, she moved and struck him in the face, sending him reeling to the floor. She was on top of him, about to knock him out with her punches, when the guards captured her and dragged her away from him.

"YOU BASTARD," Sarah screamed, "YOU EVER SAY ANYTHING ABOUT KYLE AGAIN AND I WILL KILL YOU!!!!!!!!!"

Silberman sat on the floor for a moment, wiping the blood away from his lip. Sighing to himself, he came to his feet as he listened to Sarah screaming. He walked up to the desk and leaned on it as he took out a cloth to clean himself. He noticed that the recorder was still working.

He chuckled and said, "Crazy bitch."


	3. Chapter 3

Asylum

Disclaimer: own nothing.

ΧΧΧ

Xander Harris sat on the bench on the grounds, smoking a cigarette as he stared out onto the fields that were separated from him by several miles of chain length fencing and razor wire. There were two fences separating them from the fields, with about four feet between the two fences. It would take him some time to figure out how to safely scale those fences and not be caught by the wire, but he felt confident that he could get out with enough planning.

"You," he turned his head as one of the guards, a fat man with dark skin, came walking past him, "You got ten minutes till you go back in, freak."

"Thanks," Xander said, flipping him the bird as he did so.

"Don't test me, freak," the guard snarled.

"Kiss my ass, you pissant," Xander said, and he spat on his shoe.

The guard glared at him and pulled out his stick, obviously about to try and beat him. Xander resisted the urge to smile, knowing that he would take him out in a second.

"HEY!"

Both men stopped as one of the custodians came up, a large Mexican man with black hair in a ponytail.

"This isn't your deal, Ismael," the guard talked down to him.

"The Hell it isn't, you can't beat the patients just cause you want to," Ismael shouted, "You may not care, but I'm sure both Dr. Loomis and the suits will!"

The guard glared at him, but slowly slid his weapon back into its holster. He glared at both of them for a moment before focusing his gaze on Xander.

"Watch yourself," the guard warned, turning around as he did so.

Xander stuck his tongue out at the guard, making funny faces at him as he did.

"You shouldn't do that," Ismael warned, "Sinclair's got a temper on him."

"What's his problem," Xander asked.

"He's got problems with…well…" Ismael wasn't sure how to continue.

"Freaks," Xander surmised.

"…Yeah," Ismael said, before shaking his head and saying, "I know what it's like to be behind walls, kid. It sucks. Do yourself a favor, keep your head down and your eyes open and you'll do just fine."

"I'm insane, remember," Xander said with a smile, "It's not like I actually know anything that's going on."

"I dunno if you are or if you aren't truly insane, but it's a constant," Ismael stated, "Head down, eyes open. It's the only way to make it thru."

Xander sighed at him, but nodded all the same.

Ismael walked away, moving on to do his chores, hoping that the id had gotten what he'd meant.

"It's not bad advice," Xander stiffened as he heard the feminine voice behind him, and turned around, facing a woman around his own age as he did so.

"Probably not," Xander agreed, "But in a place like this, not standing out is about the same as standing out."

"Maybe," the woman agreed.

"…What're you in for," Xander asked.

She did not answer at first, as she was eying his cigarette. He offered it to her, and she nodded in thanks as she took it. She smoked for a moment, then returned her gaze to him.

"I was attacked by robots from the future, and when I was caught, I told them everything hoping that someone would believe me, but no one did," she said.

Xander stared at her for a moment before saying, "That sucks."

She was surprised by his reaction. So surprised, in fact, that a chuckle escaped her lips, then a laugh, then finally full-blown laughter as she nearly collapsed onto the table.

"Damn," Xander laughed.

"I'm sorry," she said, still chuckling as she gained control over herself, "It's just…I've heard a lot of reactions to that, but…that's the first time anyone's not called me a crazy person."

"Well, you might be crazy," Xander said, "After all, we are in a mental hospital."

"Oh, please," the woman said with a roll of her eyes, "I'm not crazy, and I can tell you aren't."

"…yeah," Xander agreed cautiously, "I'm Xander," he offered her his hand.

She got serious for a moment, analyzing both his hands and himself, before finally grasping his hand with a surprisingly hard grip. Xander, not one to be outmatched, returned the grip and actually noticed her wince in pain from his strength.

"Damaging," she noted with a satisfied look on her face, "Good."

"…I'm sorry, I didn't get your name," Xander said.

"…Sarah Connor," she said to him, handing back his cigarette as she did so, "So what're you in for?"

"…I stabbed a girl in the heart with a wooden stake cause I thought she was a vampire," Xander admitted, more to himself than to her.

"…" she stared at him, trying to come up with something to say but obviously failing quite well.

"If it helps, you can just think I'm crazy," Xander offered with a small smile.

"…Did she," Sarah started.

"She died," Xander said quickly, wanting to finish it.

"…I'm sorry," Sarah said, quietly, "That must be...horrible."

Sarah had taken a life or two in her time, and while she knew that it had been necessary, she could hardly begin to imagine what it must feel like to have accidentally killed someone. She noted his eyes and his posture, finding that while he was upset, it was obvious that he was dealing with it…very well.

"It wasn't your first time killing," she stated quietly.

"…It was my third, actually," Xander said, "I was twenty-two when I first accidentally killed a man. I thought that he was a demon in disguise…shot him in the face."

"I'm sorry," Sarah said, placing a hand on his shoulder in what she hoped was a comforting manner.

It did not escape her, however, that he had failed to explain what the second time had been.

ΧΧΧ

Later in that same day, Ash was outside in the field, having been allowed outside for a short break. He stared out at the fences, tired already of being held captive yet again.

He reached out with his hand to grab his soda (in a plastic cup, the only thing they would give him), but found that he couldn't quite grip it. Without turning, he tried again, and once more found that it wasn't coming to him. He turned to see what the problem was…when he found that he had been reaching for it with a hand that wasn't there anymore.

He sighed, leaning down and placing his head between his legs as he reigned himself in.

He would get out…that was all he wanted.

"Hey," he heard a soft voice call out, "Hey!"

Ash lifted his head up, he looked out past the fencing to whoever it was that had called him. Standing there was a beautiful blonde woman, dressed to kill. He smiled to himself, standing up as he did so and walked over to the fence.

"Howdy, sugarmamma," Ash said as he leaned against the fence, looking out at her, "What can I do for ya? I'm afraid I don't get visitors just yet, so it's gonna be a bit before I can do what I'm best at."

"Oh, shut up, you pig," the woman shouted at him, "I get twenty of you every day at the strip club, so you can go to Hell with that shit."

Ash glared at her for a moment, then shrugged.

"Fine, whatcha want then," Ash asked, frustrated with her.

"…I wanna know if this place is safe," she confessed, "My…my little boy is…"

Ash stared at her for a moment, thinking to himself, before saying, "Lady…this place isn't safe. Not for me, or anyone else here."

She stared at him, trying not to cry. She nodded slightly.

"That's…that's what I thought," she was struggling not to sob openly, "My…my little boy is in a Hellhole."

"Your kid is Myers, isn't he," Ash asked, "I heard he killed a bunch of people on Halloween."

She began to weep as he said this, and Ash mentally berated himself for his callousness.

"Hey, hey," Ash said softly, "I'm sorry. I'm an asshole."

"It-it's alright," she sobbed, "It…it's true, anyway."

With that, she turned and walked away, ignoring everything as she cried herself over to the car. Ash sighed to himself, leaning against the fencing as he did so.

"Smooth, Ash," he muttered to himself, "Real smooth."


	4. Chapter 4

Asylum

Disclaimer: own nothing.

A/N: I didn't get any reviews for the last chapter. More reviews would be excellent. Gimme your opinion, whether it's pro or negative.

ΧΧΧ

Dr. Loomis stepped out of Michael's assigned room with a sigh. The poor child was so lost and confused, he had no real idea what was going on, only that he was here and he did not like it one bit. While he was fairly confounded as to whether or not Michael's 'amnesia' of the killings was real, he had no doubt that the child wanted nothing more than to forget all of it and leave.

Sadly, Loomis doubted that would happen anytime in the near future.

He bypassed the next six rooms, moving on to his next patient's room. He opened the slide to it and peered in thru the small window. His other patient, Mr. Harris (_Xander_, Loomis mentally corrected) was lounging on his bed, looking for all the world as though he were perfectly comfortable in his position. He'd positioned the bed in a way towards where he could see outside the window while still visible to the door. Loomis noted that he seemed lost in thought, idly bobbing his head back and forth as he did so.

He was about to move on when he noticed that was a pair of white wires stretching down from his head to something in his hand. Frowning, he stared at it for a long moment before deciding that it was something he should investigate. He summoned the guard over to him, and the big man stomped over to him. He opened the door, glaring thru the window as he did so. Loomis noted that Xander had stiffened slightly, but otherwise showed no signs that he even knew anything was happening.

"If you need me," the guard glared into the room, "And I mean _anything_…just call me."

Loomis nodded, already dismissing the man from his mind as he entered the room.

Xander ignored him for the most part, though Loomis could tell that the young man knew he was there. He decided that he was in no mood for his patient's games, so he snapped his fingers loudly, causing him to turn to him.

"Good day, Xander," Loomis said with a small smile, "How are you?"

"No complaints, Loomy," Xander said, smiling as he did so, "Y'know, except being here in general."

"Yes, well, that's the price of staking an innocent girl," Loomis said, and to his surprise saw no emotion cross over Xander's face, either that or he hid it very well, "My dear fellow, would you mind explaining what that in your ear is."

Xander smiled at him for a moment, then said, "It's a piece of technology that contains hundreds of songs without any cassette or CD of any kind, because the music was converted into an electrical file that is contained on this technology. It's called an iPod."

"I-Pod," Loomis said, doubting his words but intrigued, "May I?"

Xander nodded and removed his earphones, handing both them and it over to Loomis. Loomis stared down at the small device, looking upon its screen as he did so. The screen had the name of the song and band on it.

"'The Day That Never Comes' by Metallica," Loomis read, "I've heard of them. They won a Grammy not too long ago, for their song 'One.' I found it to be quite an intriguing song, as both a psychologist and a philosopher."

"Well, keep your eyes open," Xander said with a smile, "Metallica will be putting out their biggest album pretty soon, The Black Album. Some of their greatest songs are on there."

Loomis nodded, placing the earphones into his ears and turning the device on. Immediately, loud blaring music came on, and Loomis dropped it in surprise.

"Watch it," Xander shouted, dropping down to pick it up as he did so, "This is the only iPod I have, I need to be careful with it."

"You know," Loomis said, "You shouldn't have that at all."

Xander stared up at him from where he had bent to retrieve his device, his eyes betraying his fear over losing the device.

"Please, man," Xander asked, "Don't do that."

Loomis saw the opportunity he had before him. He could use Xander's desire to keep the device to dig deeper into him. But, by doing so, he would appear as conniving to his patient. Psychology was not about doing anything and everything to get to the core of a patient…it was about slowly gaining the trust and relationship to help each patient reach a point where they finally come to realize what is and what is not.

"…Alright, Xander," Loomis replied quietly, "I will keep my silence."

Xander stared at him for a moment, before nodding.

"Very good," Loomis said with a smile, turning for the door as he did so, "I shall see you at two o'clock, then, Xander."

Loomis exited the room, completely missing the dirty look that the guard, Sinclair, threw at Xander behind him as he did so.

ΧΧΧ

Sarah stared out thru the window of her room into the sky. Her thoughts, however, were far from the sky. They were focused on her son…on the future…on the Hell that only she knew about.

She knew she was crying, she had to be. She could hear the sobbing, and she was the only one inside the room. She was used to crying, so used to it that she didn't even think twice about it. So, it came as a shock to her when she reached up to wipe the tears away…and there were no tears.

She looked up as the sound caught her. It was not coming from anywhere inside the room…and it sounded oddly far away, as though it were an echo. She heard a metallic sound along with it, and she followed it up to the air vent. She stared at it for a moment before moving over to the vent, which was placed high on the wall. She moved the bed so that she could reach it.

She placed her ear upon the vent and listened. Coming from the room on the other side was the sound of a child weeping. Thoughts of her own son went thru her mind, and she resisted the urge to cry out to him.

Softly, she said into the vent, "Hey. Can you hear me?"

She heard the crying stop for a moment, as though whoever was on the other side had heard her and was trying to figure out where it had come from.

"Up here," Sarah called, "At the vent."

She heard the boy try and get up to the vent, jumping to get to it, but he could not say there.

"I can't get to you," a soft young voice called.

"It's ok," Sarah called back, "It's ok…what's your name, sweetie?"

"Michael Myers," the boy answered, "What's yours?"

"My name's Sarah," Sarah whispered to him, feeling her maternal instincts come out slightly.

"…Are you real?"

Sarah stumbled at that question. Then, she reminded herself that she was in a mental hospital.

"I am," Sarah called, "I'm the patient next door to you. We're at Smith's Grove."

"I hate it here," Michael said, "I want to get out."

"I know, sweetie," Sarah said, "I do too. Just hang in there, honey. Do you have any family at all?"

"My mom," Michael said, and she could hear the love he had for her, "I had two sisters, but I think I might have done something bad…they won't see me anymore."

"Oh, no, honey," Sarah said, "I'm sure they're missing you very much and can't wait to see you."

"I don't think so," Michael said, his voice growing quieter, "I think they're dead."

"What," Sarah asked, "Why's that?"

"…I think I killed them," Michael whispered.


	5. Chapter 5

Asylum

Disclaimer: own nothing.

ΧΧΧ

"Dr. Silberman," Sarah was at her daily session, where every day this egghead would try and crack her open…today was the first time she'd ever decided to try and ask something from him.

"Yes, Sarah," Silberman said, noting that her tone had softened considerably.

"I…I wanted to ask you about one of the other patients here…a young boy…"

"Ah, you must be talking about Michael Myers," Silberman said, "Why do you ask?"

"I saw him the other day," Sarah said, "He seems so…sad and lonely. Why is he in here?"

"Well, Sarah, I'm actually not allowed to hand out that information to you," Silberman explained, "And, as it is, I actually don't have access to that information as he is not my patient."

Sarah sighed, lying her head down as she realized that she had reached the end of the line with him.

"Why do you really care, Sarah," Silberman asked, sensing that there was something more to her question.

"…I miss my son," Sarah said, fighting back the urge to cry.

"And seeing a boy around his age reminds you of him," Silberman concluded.

At her nod, he wrote down on his pad.

"What," she asked.

"Sarah, I don't think you should be around someone who will excite you like that," Silberman said calmly, "I'm going to instruct the guards to move you to a different cell."

"Cell," Sarah asked, a murderous glare on her face.

Silberman realized immediately that he had made a slip up. Remaining calm, he faced Sarah, eye-to-eye.

"Room," he explained calmly, "I meant room."

"You meant cell," Sarah said, growing angrier, "That's all we are, after all. Prisoners to your system, your system which kills us all."

"Sarah, calm down," Silberman said, growing more anxious by the minute.

Sarah glared at him, then sighed and took a deep breath. She let it out and looked back at him, visibly calmer though she was still angry.

"Good, Sarah," Silberman said with a small smile, "Now-"

Sarah moved fast, and hit him in the face, sending him flying to the other side of the room. She leapt across the table and landed near him, grabbed him and proceeded to beat him with her fists. Silberman cried out in pain as she hit him, before finally she was forcibly taken off of him.

His training coming to mind, Silberman struggled to his feet as he ordered for a sedative. As Sarah struggled with the guards, he took a syringe filled with morphine and moved forward, driving it deep into her shoulder.

ΧΧΧ

Ash lifted his body up, then eased it back down, then lifted up again. He had always been a slouch when it came to keeping physically fit, but after his experiences at the cabin and in Europe several thousand years ago, the former college student had decided that he would need every single edge he could get.

When he had first began this, he had made the mistake of trying to use both hands in order to do pushups. He winced as he remembered how much pain his stump had caused him. Thankfully, though, he had one good arm, and that was enough to work with for the time being.

He lifted himself up for the 90th time, and decided that he would take a break. He would have plenty of time to get himself ready for his epic escape. He sighed and walked over to the bench, sitting down, and grabbed his cup of water, taking a sip from it to help cool down.

"Hey," he turned around as he heard himself being called, and saw a large black security guard standing there, glaring at him from behind the bench, "What do you think you're doing?"

"At the moment, chilling," Ash said with a smirk, "What's it to ya, big guy?"

"You think I don't know what you're doing," the big man said with a smirk of his own, "I know everything that goes on in here, freak. You think you can get over that wall? I'd like to see you try. Be fun for my boys to tear you outta there, like a fish caught in a net."

Ash smiled back and came to his feet, staring into his eyes as he came up to the big man, getting inside his personal space.

"Watch your next step, freak," the big man, Sinclair, said, "Or you might find it to be your last."

"You watch your mouth, Bobby," Ash mocked with a laugh, "Or you just might lose your tongue."

Sinclair glared at him, baring his teeth in anger. He raised his fist up, clasping his club with it, and prepared to bring it down.

The second he brought it up, however, he felt his hand get grabbed by someone behind him. That same person continued with the moment, pulling Sinclair up and over them with a surprising amount of strength, causing the big man to fall flat to the ground in a heap.

Sinclair shook his head to clear himself of the cobwebs, and he stared up at the face of the man who'd brought him down.

"Easy, tiger," Xander smiled down at him as he placed his foot on Sinclair's club-wielding arm, "Let's not make this any worse than it already is."

"I coulda taken him," Ash said, his pride taking a hit.

"I know," Xander acknowledged, "But I don't like him much either."

Ash nodded, understanding his meaning.

"I'mma give you to the count of three, freaks," Sinclair growled up at them, "And by then, you'd both best be on your knees begging me to _only_ put ya in a goddamned coma!"

Xander and Ash stared down at him for a moment, then turned to face each other, then turned back to him. They smiled at the same time down at him, and he felt a not-so-small shiver roll up his spine.

"One," Ash said.

"Two," Xander said.

"Three," they said as one.

They both reached down, preparing to beat the living daylights out of Sinclair, when a boot flew out of nowhere, sending Ash reeling. Xander tried to get to him, but a club came flying into his abdomen, sending him back to the ground.

Sinclair came to his feet, watching as six of his boys gathered around the two. Sinclair smiled as he rubbed his arm, knowing that these two would finally get theirs.

"Fuck 'em up," Sinclair whispered, "You know how to do it, boys."

The six men went to work, using their fists, boots, clubs, and tasers…

ΧΧΧ

Xander groaned out in pain as he was tossed unceremoniously onto the floor. Ash was tossed in after him, rolling painfully into Xander, causing them both to groan out.

"Officially, this cell is to be used solely for the containment of exceptionally dangerous freaks," Sinclair said with a grin, "That freak Myers should be in here soon enough. For the time bein', though, I think it would serve you both as a reminder of just who the fuck is in charge here.

"Who is that, boys?"

Ash grunted, then managed out, "Your mama!"

Sinclair glared down at him, then launched his foot at him, embedding it into Ash's stump. Ash let out a pain-filled and murderous scream that echoed deafeningly inside the small space.

"WHO'S IN CHARGE HERE!?!"

"Fuck you," Xander whispered, pulling himself up over Ash's body to protect him, "Fuck you."

Sinclair growled once more. "Fine, if that's the way you want it…"

With that being said, Sinclair walked out of the cell, locking it behind him as he did so.

Xander sighed out in pain, getting off of Ash and leaning his beaten body against the wall. Ash uncurled himself gently, mindful of his stump, and he brought himself over to the wall, leaning in the corner and holding his arm close to his chest as he fought off the pain.

"…D'you think every nuthouse is this bad," Xander asked, taking deep breaths as he did so.

Ash sighed and said, "How the fuck should I know?"


	6. Chapter 6

Asylum

Disclaimer: own nothing.

ΧΧΧ

Sarah Connor stared at the barbed fence about ten minutes after Xander and Ash had been dragged into their holding cell. She was analyzing it carefully, noting everything she could about it, while at the same time wondering where her new…ally was.

She was nervous about considering Xander to be anything more than a fellow patient, perhaps legitimately insane, but there was something about him. He was stronger than most of the men she'd ever met, and she had met quite a few strong men in her life. There was something about him, though, something that she had only ever seen in two men before.

One of them had been a Vietnam Vet that she'd met several years after John had been born. He was a biker, a philosopher, and an aspiring gunrunner. He was exactly the type of man John needed in his life, but he had chosen to be with another woman before she could even contemplate telling him the truth.

The other had been Kyle…

Sighing to herself, she thought back on Michael. The Myers child had something inside of him. It repulsed her as much as reminded her of her own son. It wasn't his eyes, or his age, or even any resemblance. There was a pain inside him that Sarah feared her own son would one day carry.

Besides, she was a mother. It was in her instinct to care for a child.

She had yet to be moved from her room, however. They were still trying to figure out how to move the patients around without creating an incident. Some of the patients could not room next to each other for fear that they would 'excite' each other.

Sighing to herself, she got up on her bed and faced the vent.

"Michael," she whispered, "Michael, can you hear me?"

No one answered. At first, she was afraid that instead of moving her they had moved him. Then, a soft voice replied, "Hi, Sarah."

"Michael," she replied back with a smile, "How are you, baby?"

"I'm cold," Michael whispered, "I'm hungry. I miss my mom."

"Shh, everything's going to be alright," she whispered.

She was not normally one for all this pandering. She had raised her son to be strong, to be more capable. This child was not hers, however. He had no destiny that she knew of. He was normal…scared…and alone.

She sang to him, sang him a soft lullaby to try and calm him down. She _knew_ that she would never be this way with her own son, in spite of every single instinct to do so. She had to raise her son up as hard as she could, or else his destiny would destroy him, and with him, all of mankind.

She hoped and prayed that she had done a good enough job.

ΧΧΧ

Xander sat on one side of the room, facing Ash who was on the other side of the room. Ash cradled his arm steadily in his hand, finally overcoming the pain that the guards had caused his stump.

"You alright," Xander asked, laying his head against the cement as he did so.

"Yeah," Ash grunted out, "Damn bastards. What the fuck is their problem?"

"They're sadists," Xander muttered, "All they want here is to pick on us."

Ash sighed and said, "Our tax dollars at work."

"Yeah," Xander said with a chuckle.

"…I'm Ash, man," he extended his good arm.

Xander shook his hand firmly, "Xander. Good to meet ya."

"So whatcha in for," Ash asked.

Xander frowned, remembering yet again.

"Something bad, man," Xander said quietly.

"…I getcha," Ash said, understanding that he didn't really feel like talking about it just then, "Well, it can't be worse than what I'm in for."

"What's that," Xander asked, doubting him.

"They think I killed 9 people," Ash said, completely serious.

Xander stared at him for a long moment, assessing him. He could tell that Ash had it in him to kill someone, probably many someones if the situation called for it. But he could tell that he would not do so unless he had no other alternative. He was like him…like Sarah…a warrior.

"I don't believe you did," Xander said.

"…Thanks, man," Ash said, happy to hear that at last, "So, what about you? I shared mine."

Xander sighed, realizing that Ash did have a point. He took a deep breath and shared his story.

*Flashback*

Danning, Illinois…

Xander sighed as he gathered up the last of his equipment. His business was concluded, and in spite of how painful it had been, he had done his job…he had saved the world.

Again.

Xander picked up his bag and slung it over his shoulder, placing a stake loosely in his pocket as he did so. He took a moment to adjust his eye patch, making sure that nothing could be seen from underneath. He examined his surroundings closely, noting the dead bodies (human and demon alike, along with multiple piles of dust which had been vampires) with a heavy heart. He turned around, staring into the hill that would be the last resting place of the enemy that had nearly destroyed the world.

Sighing at the loss of life, he wiped his eye. He turned away and began to walk back to civilization…to begin the search to return to his own home.

As he walked, though, a new figure entered the woods. She was a tall, blonde girl, dressed in drab clothing that had been designed for battle. Xander knew her…knew her well.

Teresa had been a Slayer…

He had seen her bitten, had seen the blood ease into her throat from the vampire. She was dead…worse than dead…she was one of them.

Xander waved to her in greeting, and she waved back. She was pale…far too pale.

He sighed as he eased a hand on his stake. She did not notice him do so, he could tell. She came forward.

"Xander, I-"

That was as far as she had gotten before Xander had surged forward, driving the stake upward into her heart. He easily penetrated her body, knowing after countless times exactly how to destroy the heart with a stake.

Only, this time, something was different. The chest bone was too strong…a vampire's chest bone was weak, weaker than any other bone in its body…the chest bone felt strong…

He stared at her as her eyes widened in pain and in surprise….and in betrayal. He stared back, in surprise and in pain. Then, he felt something warm and wet drip onto his hand. He looked down…and saw his stake and hand, covered in her blood.

*End Flashback*

"The cops came," Xander finished with a sigh, "I tried to run, but…they caught me. I think I wanted to be caught."

Ash nodded, not knowing what to say. While he had had to kill his own friends before for a similar reason, he could not imagine how it would be to kill someone who had not been in need of it.

"Xander," Ash said, "What happened wasn't your fault. You thought she was a vampire. If you'd hesitated to find out for sure, and she had been, you'd be dead right now."

"Ash," Xander interrupted him quietly, "I know that it was and it wasn't my fault. I can deal with it on my own. That's not what worries me."

"What does worry you," Ash asked.

But Xander would not say.


End file.
